The Queen and the Knight
by Eyes like Dawn
Summary: Swan/Queen AU. When Knight-gladiator Emma Swan fights her last match she thinks will finally elevate her to knight-gallant the most coveted position in the slave-caste army, she is rudely surprised to find that instead she has caught the queens eye. Hopes dashed and made into the personal guard of Queen Regina, can she find a way to like her new place?
1. Knight-Gladiator

_A/N- Let me be clear. I fully, fully support Outlaw/Queen, and even to a degree Captain/Swan. The sinking ship that has always been Swan/Queen has long been a cause for humor in my eyes. However this wouldn't leave me alone and you know what? I regret nothing. _

_Okay, maybe a little bit. _

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**~8~8~**

Bright yellow flares of sun descended mercilessly down upon the Queen's land. The barren field of blue above held no clemency for the world below allowing the lidless orb to strain all the mighty berating power to the blooming world.

Mighty trees were arrayed in their bandit greenery. Every branch was plumed with a hundred leaves leaving only the shade beneath one of the colossal titans a mercy.

The world, though abysmally hot was green and vibrant and healthy. The tributaries and cataracts gushed at full power, the goods grew rich and wild without drought and the lands were spared the patched earth that sometimes came with summer.

Only dust stirred on the long dirt paths and that was a blessing to all, making the travels of fairs, goods, and vendors easy and open and frequent.

The time was high summer in Regina's kingdom and the fact showed all too well.

Not everyone, however, was fortunate enough to enjoy such luxury as a magnificent summer. One person in particular for whom the days went by without such majestic awe was Emma Swan.

"You have been chose the best of the best!" a voice from high above the stone floor of the area thundered. The figure was hidden but the bombastic voice rang through the arena like a hearty bellow.

Emma looked up as though the voice came from the deities themselves, her eyes squinting to the blistering sun that settled itself directly above the arena as thought to witness the spectacle along with the hordes of blood hungry peasants, merchants, and nobility. A bedazzled sort of look claimed her features as her gaze eased to see the throngs of people in the stands.

Born into a gladiatorial caste, the woman who was Emma Swan had been raised a slave-knight since she could walk. She had outshone, outlasted, and out maneuvered all who she had been raised alongside.

Now, as many times before, she had to prove that fact to the people before her.

Raising her gleaming short sword and buckler to the crowd, the knight-woman looked in her element. Clad in thick brown leather boots, studded with rivets of iron in bands around the footwear she stood with an expectant grace. Loose linen pants of the same sand brown clothed her legs. A chinch of silver mail upon which was hooked a simple knife hung tight upon her waist and kept her tunic from slipping out. On her torso she wore a loose blue tunic close to her body and over that she donned a plate breastplate. The figure of the kingdom, a raven, two actually, looked to each other from under her bosom. A cap of mail fit snugly over her roughly cut golden hair. Her owner, the venerable captain of the Guard often kept her locks like that to keep them from impeding her.

Though she did not cut much of a beautiful figure in her warrior's vestments, the way she wore them added a certain charm to her. She knew her armor and she wore her gear as any fair lady would have a lustrous gown. She looked complete in her armor and that in some way did add a touch of allure to her.

Thrusting her arms high thrice more to the crowd, the knight, turned to the lustrous, gilded and shaded balconies that housed the elite and nobility. Grimacing behind her cap, the warrior preformed the same actions to the high ranks in their cool confines. She detested them certainly, but there would be nothing to be gained by showing them disrespect. On the contrary, showing them all due respect usually got a lot done and though she could not see who lingered on their ornate divans and supped their chilled wine she could estimate who watched the fights in the comfort of cool spectator lounges who would appreciate the gesture.

The Captain of the Guard would certainly be there. For one reason or another whenever she fought, he was always there to watch. The glib tongued, pandering merchants who were richer than the ones who had to go street by street selling wares would linger like flies up in the lounges as well if they had the coin. Some of the merchants dealt in the games seeing as the fights were always a viable means to look at potential proprieties to keep their other goods safe in the long travels through the kingdom.

One always did need a good fighter or two to keep things safe. That was why longer than anyone even could recall the warrior-slave system had been in motion. All that needed protection and defense were mostly cast into the role of warrior-slave.

The armies were made up of foot-slaves and knight-slaves, the leaders were the nobles of the kingdom. When times of war came all the forces of warrior-slaves were rallied, yet when the times of peace were at hand, the knight-slaves were used for the high games as the foot-slave, the ordinary soldiers were in the lesser games to work their way up to the knight-rank.

Of course there were ranks within those two ranks, each having their own subdivision from lowly front men to the highly prized knight-gallant.

Emma had started from the very bottom of that caste and now she was knight-gladiator second only to a knight-gallant. And if this fight went well she could be well on her way to that advancement.

~8~8~

From high above in the padded longue of the arena, another stared down clearly at the figure that was Emma Swan. A slight smile formed upon her plush ruby lips as she stared down at the woman. "So this is the knight-gladiator that you said the Captain boasted so proudly of?" she asked to her vizier, a scrawny, dark man who went by Glass.

"He has had nothing but praise for this woman." Glass dabbed an egg-shell blue, sweet smelling cloth to his sweating brow. Though the inside of the palisade was cool, he always seemed to be in a sweat.

Mainly because he worked for the most, powerful erratic woman in all the realms.

Regina scoffed softly, her tone unimpressed. Plucking up a grape from a silver bowl, she handled the purple orb betwixt her magic worked finger tips. "And you disagreed, correct?"

"Y-yes your majesty," nervously stammered the vizier. "No- no one has yet to beat Gorath the Mighty in combat. The Captain shouldn't brag about your champion as such."

Gorath was the best fighter in the entire army as it was told. Knight-gallant and minor praetor, two hundred lay dead at his feet. How then did the captain have the nerve to brag about this one lesser of his private forces?

Truth be told, Glass' enmity for the Captain of the Guard was a great evil of his. He hated the man, his thoughts, and his actions. Any way or recourse to plant a wedge between him and the queen was imperative.

Now, they sat in the cool lounge, watching and waiting to see if the captain was merely a boaster.

"I brag because it's truth," the captain stated from the doorway.

Striding inside, the Captain of the Guard, cut a neat figure in rigid military garb and a clean shaven face. His eyes were blue as the day and his fair hair a champagne blonde.

Helm tucked under one arm he moved to the open face of the lounge for a closer look. "Emma is one of my best. If we were at war, majesty, I'd hand her over to you as a leader of a company with my fullest regards."

"No one has the cunning to beat Gorath," argued Glass stubbornly.

The captain merely smiled at that. "See for yourself, your majesty," he voiced to her alone.

As the words crossed his lips the grating of a gate being hauled up sang through the air. The roar of the crowd all but shook the lounge and out from the other end of the arena charged.

~8~8~

Emma had only the roar of the crowd to know Gorath had been unleashed. The knight-gallant was famous for his rushing into battle, something which always managed to be the end of his first victims.

Twirling around to face the huge mountain of a man, Emma crouched in a defensive position. Her shield arm went up to protect herself as the man thundered forward, spraying dust behind him. Gorath was incredibly quick despite his size, she knew.

Trying to outmaneuver him was the fatal mistake all his victims made. Gorath, like any bully only wavered to one thing – when people didn't back down.

A roar broke from Gorath's bearded lips as he brought his Clayborn, a great two hand blade down upon the shield.

Emma grunted as she buckled beneath the blow. She fell hard to her knees sending little spurts of sand through the air.

The bloodthirsty crowd both booed and cheered at the spectacle, deepening on which one they were rooting for. A quick battle was not something they paid to see, but those who put their bets on Gorath's side were more than happy to go home with a few extra coins in their pockets and be bereft of the thrill of the fight.

Well, Emma proposed inwardly, she would be letting down a great many of people on those accounts.

As the hulking Gorath raised his blade again to break the shield in twain, Emma rolled to her left. The blade came down all too quickly only she was no longer there. As the blade hit only sand, the woman leapt to her feet, she was then eye to eye with the brute Gorath.

The hulking man only had a breath to realize his surprise and error before her sword rammed itself into the leather straps that kept the sides of his armor together.

A great cry of agony erupted from the hulk as blood spurted like a damaged fountain from his torso. Taken aback by the pain, the brute lost his concentration and that was all that Emma needed. Twisting the blade so that the steel severed the leather, she left the weapon inside him. In a wink she turned to her shield arm and with a might bash nailed the blade hilt deep into the man's side.

With how deep the blade had gone there was no way nothing vital had not been struck.

A look of dumb surprise bunched up upon the brutes face. His piggish eyes narrowed as though he were faced with a problem he could not comprehend. A last grunt bubbled from his blood flecked lips and then he toppled, Emma sword in his side as though a banner to her victory.

Silence encompassed the crowd at the sudden, shocking death of the greatest champion they had known. No one had even an inkling Gorath would perish so fast, or at all!

Standing over the bleeding corpse, grimly, Emma took off her helm. Tucking it under her left arm she looked up at the crowed. A measure of a smile hinted at her lips as she took in the pleasure of watching their awe.

She did so love proving people wrong.

~8~8~

Inside the box, the viewer's sat as stunned as the people baking in the heat. Nothing seemed to move in the space of the moment. All eyes were pinioned upon the pair below.

Eyes riveted to the scene Glass was the first to speak. "Th.. that… that…."

"That was me being proved correct." The Captain smiled widely, his blue eyes twinkling with pride.

"That was also my knight-gallant being slain before my eyes," the Queen dead-panned simply. All humor had fled her voice, but instead lingered there only intrigue. Her eyes stared down upon the sense as well, but on the one in particular – the victor.

The captain coughed into his gauntleted hand. "With all due respect majesty, it was your idea for the match."

"Yes, but I did not think Gorath would lose. Now I am without a knight-gallant," she parried and flickered her eyes away from the scene and to the captain. "In the coming months I would have needed him greatly. Now neither do I have my best knight, but no longer my guard."

Only the best served as the queen's Guard. One she kept close at all times and that had, unfortunately been the knight-gallant Gorath.

The captain turned to her. "Majesty-" he began but she stopped him with a sharply raised hand.

"Fear not, captain there will be a way to remedy this… situation," she explained genteelly as her mouth curved into a cunning, dark smile.

~8~8~

A knight-gallant dead by her hand!

The thought rang gloriously through Emma's mind as she was escorted up the sloping incline and the lounges where the wealthy and the nobles lingered. After a fight the winners were normally sent up to the balconies to speak with those who wanted to congratulate them or for their owners to talk business.

She had always hated the little "meet and greet" after of all the deplorable things killing for entertainment, but for this one she nearly outran her guards.

She had defeated the best knight-gallant in the realms. There was only one thing that meant.

Promotion.

As a knight-gallant she would have so many more wills of her own. A grand home of her choice, say in tactics, her own retinue if she wished. Only the very highest commanders in the army would outrank her. She would still be in the caste, yes, but she would have so much more.

"Emma." The captain stopped her at the door as she and the guards came to the lounge. His face was grave, but Emma barely gave the fact note.

Before he could say more, she leapt in. "I know what you want to say, but I'm just doing my job." She hid her excitement behind a neutral wall. She had never been a boaster. "A job that won't be like this for long," she hinted at the promotion long promised her.

"Emma," the Captain sighed and with a flick of a gauntlet garbed hand, dismissed the guards behind her.

Gathering himself as they walked away he prepared to deliver the disastrous news. They would shatter her, he knew invariably, utterly shatter her. "Yes, you won't have this job for much longer," he concurred lowly.

"My knight-gall-," she paused as he tossed his head negatively.

"No, Emma," he muttered lowly. "You've been… Emma… you've been sold as a guard."

Eyes wide, Emma's jaw swung as open as the gate they used to carry out the defeated Gorath. Guard? Why did she become a guard instead of the promotion she had long been promised? That promotion had been the only thing to keep her going!

"You can't do that!" Emma roared, her eyes desperate as though watching her dreams drown. Guard wasn't exactly a step down, but neither was the title a promotion either and as a guard realizing her dream had just been put back on top of a nigh unclimbable mountain. "You promised me Knight-gallant, not to be sold to some two-bit merchant who wants another set of eyes to protect his vases and cows!"

The captain faced the woman sadly, not backing down from her wrath. She deserved it on a lot of levels. "Emma, you know I'd not hand you over to any merchant or some fanciful noble. Not in a million years."

"Then who is the low life piece of scum that made you go back on your promise?" she growled, demanding to put a face to the hatred of injustice she felt well so like a spring within her.

"That my dear," Regina announced victoriously as she appeared in the outside of the door. "Would be me."

~8~8~

_A/N: What have I done…. Halp. _


	2. The Palace

_A/n- Why am I still writing this? Anyway, thanks for reading and the lovely reviews!_

**~8~8~**

Humidity lay over the world in a choking shroud the next day after the match. The sun had just climbed glumly to midday, but the lustrous orb was hidden behind a veil of milky gray clouds. Rain still dripped from the bended ends of waxy green leaves and the wet seemed to linger just at the tips of the trees forming a fog that dripped water ever so often as the mist were an old rag dripping sweat upon the world.

Despite the rain, two jet black horses cantered steadily down a muddy, snaking forest trail almost overtaken by greenery. The coachman managed them at a hurried pace, eager to deliver the cargo of the queen from the estates of the guard captain. Hitched behind the two black horses a barred wagon all of black rattled along with them through the ruts and divots of the road.

The wagon was barred up with thick inky timber leaving only a few square windows housed with dark bars on either long sides of the jarring cart. The only other item upon the cart was a large enchanted chain wrapped around the outside of the door to keep the important person neatly locked inside.

Normally such an enchanted item would cost a king's ransom. Not so when matters came to ferrying the queens property. Emma Swan was too valuable a prize to be even given the minutest opportunity to be set free and in her present state there was no doubt if she could have gotten free she would have…. What else would she have done with her dreams dashed?

Dashed, Emma lamented bitterly, yes, that was the word.

Such troubled, dour machinations were all the newly christened guard of the queen thought of as she rode her way from her old home to the new. The morose thoughts swam in her mind like fat eels in too small a scummy pond. They had eaten all the beautiful fish of hope to be only the slimy reality of her fate. She was never going to be a knight-gallant – ever.

Such was her luck. Her rotted, blasted luck! Year, _years_, of working her way through the ranks and who in all the realms picked her for a guard? The one person the captain could not protest against!

Abruptly as the thoughts stampeded through her mind, the barred and locked wagon jolted over an open hole in the road making the cart jar violently. The black chains around Emma's wrists jangled luridly as though clacking tongues mocking her. That was another thing her promotion would have done, alleviated some of the humiliation of her warrior-caste status.

Soured, by the thought that truly hadn't left since the revelation, the warrior woman leaned sullenly against the black boards. Her face, dirty from sand, dust, and even, she hated to admit the fact, a few tears seemed carved of stone. How could her life have ended up in such a disastrous turn? What deity hated her enough to deal such a hand?

Even as the sullen thoughts crept into the morose crevices of her mind, the crack of the coachman's whip snapped through the air. In an instant she felt the carriage slow and knew for all her bitter thoughts, the time had come to get on with her fate.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" the rough coachman ordered as he no doubt made his way through the gates.

After one last jump in the cart, the road, Emma noticed began to become smoother. The road was made of stone no doubt, telling the tale they had arrived. If that hadn't been enough the curious but sullen voices outside the carriage more than supplied the realization they had reached their destination - the palace of the queen.

"That's her innit?" some voice from the outside asked as the wagon wobbled down the smooth stone lane.

Another chimed in. "You mean the one that killed Gorath? Aye, they say she killed him by just looking at him."

A harsh scoff erupted from Emma's grimacing mouth. Were those the rumors then? That she could not have taken down Gorath without being some mystically empowered figure? If she had been in a better mood she might have laughed. The plain fact was fighting wasn't hard to her. Battles had never been a challenge for her. She had only refined the gifts given.

Gifts now, she thought bitterly, would be wasted. Utterly wasted.

Disgusted, Emma shook slightly as the wagon finally came to a stop, just as she saw her chances to do something more with her life. Curling her hands into fists, she stood as the back of the wagon opened.

Gray light from the humid day filled the dark wagon with its dour tint. The sounds of marching feet and the clop of horses on flagstones filled her ears, adding just a touch of comfort to her. At least they were sounds she knew.

Stepping out calmly into the day, the knight-gladiator squinted in the light as she stepped down. The chains around her wrists jangled faintly, but did nothing more to impede her than add an extra noise.

Once her vision adjusted from the dark, dank interior of the wagon, she spied her new surroundings. Large black walls as smooth as basalt rose high in the courtyard. Spikes of silver tipped the tops making escape inside or an attack from the outside nary possible.

The huge rectangular space that comprised the training courtyard was filled with straw dummies by the walls, racks filled with mock weapons, and warrior-slaves trainings in their craft. The humid air smelled of sweat and steel and cleaning oils that felt no different than what had been her old barracks.

At least, she took comfort, some things didn't change. Not an improvement by any means, but they weren't all that different.

"Ah here she is," the glib voice of a man declared approvingly from the other side of the courtyard.

Appearing from a door that led into the palace, the man was garbed in ostentatious dark green robes. His skin was dark and his beard was a sleek handlebar mustache without a hair out of place. His smile was large, but tired and fake as well, Emma noted perceptively as he walked up to them.

Face cool, she stood straight, her stone eyes never leaving him or alleviating her icy gaze. There she might have stood in her new home but she didn't have to like the fact or anyone who came near. And this one, certainly by the looks of him, a sniveling lackey at that.

As the man dashed closer, the ends of his ornately flamboyant robes kicking up with every step, revealing upturned green slippers, he paused as he got closer. His smile faded a trifle at her stern glare. "Is she dangerous?" He flashed a concerned look at the coachmen as though he could tell if she were wild or not.

"If by dangerous you mean furious that I was robbed out a position I long, long clawed my way up to acquire, and brought here for no more than the queen's whim then yes, I am," she addressed him fully, her voice measured and calm but displaying the unrelenting fury behind her icy words.

Glass turned his gray eyes to her, his gaze scanning her up and down with an air of haughtiness. She was chained after all, famous knight-gladiator or no. "Brazen of you to speak out of place," he warned mildly as usual attempting to toss his substantial weight being the queens assistant and vizier around.

"You'll get used to it," Emma retorted stonily, her gaze never dropping from his.

Unlike others Emma had never quite learned her "place". She knew where the nobles wanted their warrior-caste to be and act, and yet she had long forgone those implicit actions. That had been one thing to impress the captain and he had not only admitted and admired her boldness but spurred her on at times.

A look of abject surprise claimed Glass' dark face. Mouth dropping open in shock he took a step back as though he had psychically been struck. Incense burned in his gray eyes like coal. "How… how dare you speak to me in such a manner! Do you have any idea who you are speaking too?"

"I'm speaking to some sniveling lackey who probably enjoys pushing his underlings around because that's how he's treated by all the nobles that he tries to cozy up with by licking their boots." Before he could reply, even if he could have found words, she plowed on. "Let's get something straight right now. I'm not your underling nor do I answer to you," she challenged back flatly, her eyes blazing like twin furnaces that dared him to take up the gauntlet for supremacy she had tossed down.

Outraged, Glass raised a hand as if to strike her.

Without flinching a muscle the warrior woman stared dead into his eyes with nothing but icy wrath that could quench the most infuriated fires. "Lay one hand on me and I will strangle you here and now," she revealed, her voice bereft of any emotion anger or fear.

Even chained she could probably do what she promised and they both knew that fact. Anyone who could beat Gorath was probably good to their word.

Staring into her eyes as though trying to battle wills, Glass found himself the weaker opponent in the match. Where there should have been submission and acquiescence there was fire. There was an iron in the woman's eyes than sheared through him down to his very core.

He hated her he realized, and also feared her with just as much of his hate.

Slowly lowering his hand, he averted his eyes quickly as though they hurt him. "The queen will hear of this," he mumbled hatefully.

"No doubt," Emma snorted fearlessly, then turned to the barracks. "Just get me out of these chains and show me to my bunk."

Glass snorted in turn. "You're not staying in the barracks," he revealed primly as he managed to gather his rather officious standing again.

"What?" Emma turned to face him sharply, her brow knit into lines of displeasure measured with her narrowed eyes. "Are you kidding me?"

Another razor of desperation slashed at the corded sinew of her heart with the news. That had been one last link to something familiar, something that could have kept her on to hope that she could surpass her standing.

She was used to regiment and roll call, the meals in the mess and the weapon and armor detail along with the training and the long hours of refining skill.

Now she wasn't even allowed _that_.

Shifting in his robe, Glass scoffed grandiosely and tugged at the fibers imperiously. "You should feel honored. Your fellow knights and warriors would kill for the place you're getting. An apartment next to the queen's all to yourself."

"I don't need that," angrily growled Emma, her voice slivers of ice slipping between her grit teeth.

Fear shocked through Glass's heart to see her upset. The all too true warning of her strength came roaring back to him in the heat of her ire. Better to calm her down, at least for his sake until he got word to the queen.

"Look," he sighed and rolled his eyes as he leaned his head conspiratorially to her. The look was that of a genuinely fed up and tired man. "If it makes you feel any better, if I had to make the call, I'd put you there with the rest of them." He proffered a hand to the dark barracks built against the wall then shrugged, his cunning face flashing a helpless look. "But the matter is out of my hands. You're not just anyone you're the queen's guard. If she's in danger do you think you can get to her in time by the barracks? It won't be so bad, promise."

The blonde's face was stone to his measly promise. "Too late for that," she deadpanned direly with the last comfort all but ripped from her hands.

~8~8~

"An apartment all my own," Emma spat aloud. "Joy," she finished sarcastically with equal displeasure as she pulled a black belt tight around her middle.

Though she had once entertained a room of her own as a fanciful notion, these were the not the conditions she thought to claim them. It should have been a room of her choice in her own villa, not some windowless back room to burst out of if someone took the hankering of a death wish to assault the queen.

Gritting her teeth furiously and cursing lowly under her breath at her fate, the warrior woman finished dressing and took up her old sword. Looking into the polished steel she stared at herself in the reflection.

The old armor was gone replaced by the terrible armor of the queen's men. The black armor was slightly ill-fitting but she would have to become used to the cumbersome plate, along with the helmet she was certain killed more lives than saved.

For a long, hard moment Emma stared at herself. The dirt and sand was gone, for she had taken a quick bath in the small washroom allotted, but the fury of being cheated… that, no soap could ever scrub away.

Mouth pinched into a pencil thin line, for a small moment Emma let her rage fall like a heavy burden at her feet. Her shoulders dipped dejectedly as her mouth downturned into a dour crescent of defeat. "Well," she sighed at her reflection, "we tried."

Not many had ever seen Emma Swan anything more than stony and composed, but all to herself she seemed… lugubrious in the cage of life that held her.

The sadness only lasted a moment before she returned once more to the hardened warrior. Now was not the time to let her walls fall, not when there were still things to be done. With that instance of self-pity gone and tucked away from another private moment, the blonde steeled herself again.

Stoking her cheated fury once more she twisted the blade expertly and deposited her weapon in her scabbard. The blade rasped as the weapon fit snugly into the famialr holder and her mind began to churn. First she would find the nearest guard, she planned out to herself inwardly, and then she would find the woman who had ruined everything.

"You look absolutely atrocious," a feminine voice from behind her stated displeasingly.

Thoughts shattering like glass, Emma jolted into action. Hand still on her blade, the blonde turned around only to be met with the woman who had killed her dream with nothing but a word.

Her eyes were cold brown like a cool ale and her lips were painted a glossy luminous red. The woman's hair was silky and dark as ravens-wings but pinned up neatly with little spirals hanging down to the sides of her cheeks and intermittently in the 'do'. Her skin was without blemish all save for a small nick on her upper lip.

She wore a long black gown with a flared collar that towered past her hair. The edges were inlayed with pearl, the only white against the velvet black. The sleeves were wide, huge things whose black laced hems came down at a sharp angle, nearly hiding the delicate hands behind the wide sleeves.

Never in the warrior's life had she seen a dress more ridiculous and being so, the woman could have been no other but the one she was bought to protect. And yet, despite the vestments and the ornate fixings of her hair, the regal ostentatiousness fit the queen exceptionally well.

Emma had never gotten a good look at the woman before. Truth be told she hadn't really cared. Now, she found herself taking all the woman in. Where she usually held her gaze eye to eye, she could not help but stare at all of her.

Thinking the knight-gladiators eyes moved to divert from her own the queen stared at her intently, her mouth a thin line. "Who gave you that armor?" she demanded to know, her voice sharp, commanding, and prim.

Snapping her eyes back up, Emma shook her head as though the queen's voice had ripped her out of some ensorcelled spell. Face stern again she looked at her eye to eye without wavering. "I found this gear when we passed the barracks. The size was close enough so I thought I'd put it on."

Glass had not said of anything that would be provided for her and, even sore about her fate, she would not walk around wearing only a worn brown linen tunic and a pair of wool pantaloons.

"You? You did that?" the queen asked in a near disbelieving huff as though unsure whether to be angry or impressed. "Who gave you such authority?" she demanded, choosing the latter.

Emma tightened her jaw wrathfully. "My instinct to not get an arrow through me if I was needed gave me that authority," she snapped tersely.

If the monarch would be unpleasant, queen or no, she would get back as good as she gave. If she thought she could come in with that high and mighty tone asking those questions to someone who knew very well what they were about, without being pestered, then she was in for a rude surprise.

Taken aback by the sharp retort, Regina stiffened but did not show the fear or puerile tantrum Glass had. "I see Glass was correct. You do have a mouth on you," she spat venomously to her new guard.

"Aren't you the observant one," the knight deadpanned fearlessly. Though she knew she was on shaky ground, she was in no mood to be trifled with. Perhaps she even wished some ill would happen to hear to make her forget all that she had lost.

Regina's perfectly plucked brow twitched upwards towards the fearless retort. This she had not be expecting. A champion she wanted, yes, but not so bold out of the arena as inside. "Don't take that tone with me….?" her stern voice pattered to a halt as she fought for a name. The captain had mentioned her title at some point while trying to coerce her from taking the woman as a guard.

"The name is Emma Swan but you will address me as guard or knight-gladiator Emma as per my rightful station," she filled in, her voice as hard an unwavering as a military commanders to a subordinate. "And furthermore I will take this tone with you. My job is to protect you. I know more about that than anyone here. I don't talk sweet words, I'm not a noble. I don't have time to pamper and soothe you through things should some emergency be in place."

The words had barely fled her lips before an invisible force clamped around her body. A gasp fled Emma's surprised lips as she was roughly barreled into the wall behind her. Magic shimmered around her form trapping her to the wall like some hand pressed her there.

Hand outstretched, the tips of her finger pulsing with dark magic, the queen sneered at her guard. "First of all, _Miss Swan_," she ground out blatantly calling her what she pleased if just to bite back at the woman, "I am not that terrifying little gnat, Glass. You aren't going to intimidate me. I don't take such attitude from the highest kings in the lands. What makes you think that I'd take lip from a slave-born?"

How dare she think she could dole out that kind of attitude to her the queen! Who did this decidedly alluring, courageous woman think she was?

Struggling against the magical claw bound around her, Emma managed in a growl. "Call it intuition."

Surprised by the answer, Regina paused. Her eyes studying the struggling angry woman there for a moment before she let her drop. As the warrior fell to her knees, the queen sneered. "Do not let this little flare of brazenness happen again, Miss Swan."

"No." Emma rose to her feet, her eyes bright as any conflagration. "Count on this happening again, Regina."

The sorceress-queen frowned darkly. "You impertinent little slave! You will address me as your majesty," she snarled imperiously. She tilted her chin up a bit as though to look down on the brazen woman and knock her back into place like a disrupted peg from a slot.

"Really? Because I don't see that happening, ever." Emma put her hands on her plate bound hips as she stared down the woman.

A furious sneer slashed the queen's face. Who did this woman think she was? "You would dare defy me?"

"You should have known something before you bought me as a guard Regina," she inflected the name perilously, her eyes never leaving the queens. "I'm not like the others who bow and scrape. Never have, never will. Push me and I push back."

Infuriated silence encompassed the two as they fought only with looks, and surprisingly to both, neither could cave. Their glares clashed with the same strength, their wills meeting head to head but neither moving the other an inch.

Enraged beyond measure, the witch stamped her foot as she was the first to retreat. Why did she waste her time bickering with a guard? Why had she come down there at all?

Well, truth be told she had waited to get a good look at the woman and besides for her tongue that she seemed to not be able to curtail, the trip had been worth the spurt of magic expended.

Despite the badly cut golden hair, the woman was rather attractive to look at. She probably would have cut a fine figure out of the ghastly armor.

Shaking her head at the thought, she stared angrily at the woman. "We'll see about that," she promised in a hiss. Now was not the time to take in the fetching view, she noted sternly. She had to make sure this woman knew she would not to be trifled with.

"Yeah." Emma nodded ever so faintly. "We will."

Smiling just a hint, the queen snapped her fingers. "Besides for our troubled meeting, this is what I did come here to bring you. I think it will fit you nicely," she explained before a cloud of purple encompassed the guard.

A small yell of alarm echoed from Emma before the black soldier gear was gone. Instead a thick, red leather tunic rested there. The sleeves were gone but two silver wrist guards that went halfway up her arm remained for some protection. Her belt was still there and so was her weapon, but her mail pants had been replaced by thick cotton breeches of black. Her boots were still the same, remaining black plate.

Looking up at the witch, a scowl mingled with shock filled her face. "Are you trying to get me killed? How is this going to protect me?"

"My personal guard will not be an eyesore in my presence. The normal guards can wear that hideous plate, but you shall be near at all times and must wear something suitable in my sight. Furthermore, you're the guard, Miss Swan, the job doesn't fall to me how you're going to protect yourself," she grinned maliciously as she turned. "Figure it out."

With that's he turned and departed, the trail of her black gown gliding behind her as she snapped her fingers to magically open the door and disappeared the way she had come leaving Emma alone.

Staring at the place the woman had left, Emma cursed darkly under her breath again. This was going to be different than from what she imagined. Though the meeting was not what she expected it had revealed some things at least. There were going to be quite a few things that were to occur at the palace. But would they be boring? After that little spat Emma nearly laughed at the ridiculous thought that invaded her mind.

Boring? On no, from what she could ascertain things would be far, far from boring.

**~8~8~**

_A/N- If ever another chapter is put up, the chapter shall have more Swan/Queen. _


	3. Buttting Heads

A displeasured frown marred Regina's lovely features as sat angrily in the midst of her barren court. Her mouth seemed a thin ruby slit carved within a merciless face of marble as she viewed the empty luster with an enraged haze

Sitting upon her, smooth obsidian stone throne, the noble seat fit Regina perfectly. The rigid back that flared taller than two men gave no doubt of her sternness. Most days she cut an impressive imposing figure of dastardly beauty. Today she looked as though she had been cheated out of half a kingdom.

Pristinely manicured nails of her right hand rapped in a quick rhythm upon the dark arm rest as though mirroring the cogs clicking in the whirl of her angered mind. She sat rigid in her throne, her mouth a grim line as she thought, and stewed and waiting in her frothing rage.

"Your majesty," the timid voice of a herald piped up in the dead silence.

Twisting her head sharply to the right, she stared at a neatly clad, grimacing herald. Umber gaze narrowing, she seemed like an enraged panther. "What you, fool!" she snapped angrily, in no mood to be distracted by trifles.

"The… the captain has arrived as you requested." The poor man did a series of bows as thought that would appease her ladyship.

A snorted huffed from her flaring nostrils. "Finally," she ground out darkly. "See him in this instant!"

Without another word the herald scurried to obey. His boots clicked rapidly on the floor as he dashed away to give words to the guards.

In an instant, the sharp creak of the large, black double doors at the end of the hall whined through the air. A sliver of orange torch light from the halls filled the threshold before the rigid figure that was the captain entered.

Sturdy as always, the man gave no sense of wariness, though trepidation danced in the corners of his aging eyes.

Walking fully inside, the captain gave a bow at the waist to the monarch. "Majest-"

"How do I handle her?" Regina interposed sharply, her voice enraged at the captain as though he were a shifty merchant who had sold her a bad cabbage.

Forcing back a shiver of discomfort, the man killed the distance between himself and the queen in long strides. Standing before her dark throne, the captain sighed and placed his hands together as he stood at ease before he queen. A dark frown marbled his normally handsome features. "Your honorable majesty, I did warn you about Emma. She's different."

"By different, I supposed you meant without peer in battle, not different as taking me toe to toe as if I were…." She flourished a hand through the air angrily as though slapping some figure there.

"On her level?" the captain dared interpose, his lips creasing into the faintest of grins. "What makes Emma Swan special is just about… everything majesty. I told you, things would be troublesome."

Scowling venomously the witch stopped the rhythmic tapping of her nails. Clutching the arm rests she leaned forward as though she wished to leap from the chair in her pernicious fury. "I don't care about your warnings, captain," she hissed through thinned, ruby lips, her eyes ablaze murderously. "How do I fix it?"

"You can't I'm afraid." He shrugged helplessly. "That's always how Emma has been. Majesty if I may be so bold, you have caught a tiger by the tail and have no idea what to do next." Looking from side to side, he took a step up the sable dais and extended a hand of pleading. "Forgo this venture. Give her back and be done with her."

A sneer sharply wrenched her lips. "Do you think I can't handle one idiot who doesn't know her place?" Pushing herself to her feet, she stamped down to the captain, who backed away in her rage. Her hands balled into fists, her eyes slightly wide with the manic spark of plotting, she smiled just faintly. "If you will do nothing, then I will have to break her myself!"

~8~8~

"Good afternoon Miss Swan," Regina greeted venomously pleasant to her guard as Emma entered the chamber.

Small, but ornate, the place was but a tiny dining hall away from large feasting tables and scraping nobles of the main chambers. The area was a small, comfy, dining space with a crackling fireplace in the corner the shape of a lion's mouth and plush chairs facing the warmth.

The table was spread marvelously with exotic and rare dishes found all over the kingdom. Only the centerpiece was of ordinary quality, a roast swan, gilded back in its own feathers, but dead on the inside out.

Scowling after she observed the room and the table with a guards glance, Emma eyed the woman over suspiciously. The greeting she didn't trust. After the first greeting, her politeness was an obvious ploy…perhaps. "Regina," she voiced in return, her tone dubious. Crossing her arms she stared at her queen at a distance that allotted space, but was quick enough to come to her aid if someone were to attack.

Smilingly lightly, the monarch insouciantly picked at a plump swans wing cooked to perfection upon her plate. Bored, she scraped flicked bits of herb from right to left upon her plate like a cat toying with her food. "You know, I was thinking, maybe we got off on the wrong foot yesterday," she admitted maliciously, her smile never fading.

"Yeah… maybe." Emma crossed her arms and eyes the woman seditiously.

True, they hadn't gotten off on the right foot. She had admittedly been broken at her dream dashed and the queen probably wasn't used to the harsh words she dealt. They had started on opposite ends of the spectrum, perhaps the woman was trying to do something beneficial to mend the gap they had both dug.

The witch chuckled. "Definitely," she corrected primly. "So, I've come up with a solution. You beg my pardon and we shall start anew with a more respectful attitude."

That was the easiest solution. A simple sorry would be enough for the time being until she concluded to a different medium of punishment against the gladiator for her blatant disrespect. Then, if there was no more trouble she was willing to forgo any more un-pleasantries in her victory.

"Did you honestly think that was going to work?" Emma laughed, the oddly melodic chimes of her mirth alighting the air.

Her laugh wasn't unpleasant, Regina couldn't help but note, even if it were mockery. So alluring was the laugh had she been in the mood she would have cracked a smile herself. Instead, her lips pulled into a dark frown. "Still holding to that pride."

"You got it," Emma remarked sternly and dipped her head ever so faintly in the positive. She would not budge, not to the queen, not the woman who had taken away her chances. She wouldn't be pushed down into a place to kneel and scrape and whimper like a beaten dog to the woman.

Silent, the queen delicately plucked at the swan still. She had taken no bite, her mouth pinched tight as though the food repulsed her. "I'm sorry to hear," she announced dryly. "Here I thought we'd get off on the right foot."

"Can't really do that when you try to intimidate others, no matter how sweet the smile," crisply retorted the knight. Immediately she snapped her lips tight, her gaze hardening in anger that was directed at herself. Had she really added that last bit? Well, despite the malice there, there was something a touch likeable to her smile, something brightening, and secretly, perhaps she wished to see more of that grin.

"Try?" she chuckled. "Oh Miss Swan, I do so much more than try to intimidate. I live up to that word." Smile returning, she found Emma again, her hard, but lovely face as stern as stone. Canting her head a right to left, she smiled oozingly sweet. "Consider yourself back in the gladiator roster from this moment onward."

If she would not succumb, she would be broken into submission. And to be honest, Regina had to note to herself, she much preferred the breaking route over anything else. At least this way she knew Swan was not all bluster, she was serious, a challenge, and something she would enjoy to see broken under her heel.

Brow knitting, Emma's jaw hung a bit as she searched the grinning woman. "What… are you saying?"

Per the rules if she were a guard she'd be in exhibition only. She would fight but with no purpose other than to preen her owners pride or earn their hate. She couldn't go further. That was only allowed for people in military standing not people pulled out to be guards and watchers.

"I thought it obvious, Miss Swan, I am enrolling you in the new games. At my whim you will fight who I please, how many I please, when I please?" She flicked her victorious glance up to the opened mouthed, disbelieving guard.

Eyes still searching he queen, a look of astonishment upon her face, she stammered for words. "You can't…."

"Oh yes, I can. I can do anything I want. You will have your role of guard and knight-gladiator. Of course." She raised a manicured finger. "You could always, humbly, meekly, ask me to rescind that order." Her unctuous smile fell as her eyes hardened to stone. "And then never for the rest of your life speak to me, push back at me, as you have."

Yes, she would know what it was like to plumb the fury of her mistress. She would learn and grow to be as Gorath had always been. Watchful, dutiful but obedient not some willful wild woman.

Eyes as hot as coals, Emma stared wrathfully at the woman. She clenched her jaw until she thought her teeth might shatter. This was her plan then? To grind someone into the ground until they were bust dust she could whip around by the ends of her cloak. Well, she swore inwardly, she would get no further than the order.

"I might as well find my fighting gear," growled the woman. "Because that, will never happen."

"We will see, Miss Swann." Regina pushed the untouched by ruined plate of food away. "Will shall see indeed."

~8~8~

_Thock_.

Well, Regina preened in her private study. That had been a grand success. Sitting victoriously the private chamber, she felt the warmth of success fill her. Very soon, the knight-gladiator would be begging her to stick with mere guard duty. And, if she was feeling generous she would obliged her.

_Thock_.

Generous however was not something she associated with feeling to Emma Swan. Truth be told she didn't know exactly what to feel for the woman. She was frustrating, yes, irksome, infuriating, but these were qualities she had not met in another. She bit back, and herself, like a moth to the flame was entranced, always fluttering closer as if to feel the heat that bit so badly. There were other qualities she was sure of entranced her but she dare not think of _those_.

_Thock_.

Shaking her head, the queen forcefully abounded the strange thought. She would have plenty of time to stick Emma into one niche or another. For all her blasphemy against her, the knight wasn't exactly going an-

Abruptly the sound that had been only in the back ground, of wood being hewn, came to her attention and snatched the queen's thoughts away. The rhythmic "thock" sound of an axe biting into a tree filled the air even from high above in her study.

Curiously, Regina stood and glided towards her window. Her palace held no tree save for her private orchard, so what caused the sound? Lifting a finger, the witch peeled back the lacy black curtains and stared down to see the cause of the noise.

Shock palled her face at the sight of Emma Swann, stripped down to a waxy colored linen tunic and breeches cutting away at the very bottom limbs of her precious trees. Wood chips sprayed in the air with each mighty strike and after only a few hits, branch by branch fell in a shower of not quite ripe apples and waxy green leaves.

Snapping her fingers, the witch summoned magic to her beck and in a flash a dark amethyst cloud spiraled tightly about her taking her to the garden below. In mere moments the smoke ferried her to the grove and as the fog dissipated she viewed the carnage up close.

The few limbs she had hacked and hewn lay like wood for the fires. Chips littered the manicured ground in the carnage of her desecrated grove.

"My apple trees!" Regina stared in abject awe at the moss strewn, healthy limbs that lay hacked to bit and useless now for only firewood. Snapping her gaze back up to Emma she glared wrathfully. "What do you think you're doing!"

Spinning the axe in her hand, Emma sauntered a trifle victoriously towards the queen, her lips cast in the mold of an infuriating smirk. "A little thank you for thrusting me back into the arena and have the full time chore of babysitting you."

Enraged beyond all measure, her wrath but the hottest of blue flames, Regina stammered for words. The utter gall of the woman. She could have almost laughed if she hadn't been so infuriated. "You would do this…. This…."

"Consequence is the word," Emma rebuffed simply and swung the axe over her shoulder.

The queen grit her jaw in a vice, her brown eyes burning coal. "I don't deal with consequences."

"Well," Emma nearly let out a chuckle. "You do now."

Still the combatant, even after the fighting was done, Regina noticed. She voiced a huffed. "You know Miss Swan, I'm not sure if I should have you flogged within an inch of your life or just drawn and quartered outright for this disrespect."

"You can't." Emma heaved her shoulders in a shrug, the axe on her right shoulder leaping a bit. "If you did then I couldn't live to see your punishment of me through." Her face dissolved back into the angry frown at the thought. "You see? Consequences."

With that, the knight shouldered past the queen, thudding miserably back into the palace.

Staring at the chopped branches for a moment, the queen bent and picked up a perfectly ruby red apple. Starting at the fruit, a thoughtful pall over took her, before she turned to watch the woman that was Emma Swan disappear, her mind quite uncertain what exactly to gain from that little spat.

Half of her was invariably infuriated.

Half of her was attractively impressed.


End file.
